


Rose

by wildwinterwitch



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-08-05
Packaged: 2017-11-08 12:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwinterwitch/pseuds/wildwinterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Rose lies recovering from serious injury, she asks the Doctor to take her memories of the past year away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and One: March Stirrings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Spring Fling Fixathon at , based on 's prompt. Further one-word prompts for twelve chapters were kindly provided by my faithful readers.

Prologue

“I wish there was a magic pill I could take that would make me forget the whole fucking year.”

The Doctor is taken aback by both the idea and the vocabulary Rose has used. Granted, the last year had been horrible, but there were some beautiful moments as well. Actually, it all started out very nicely, with the two of them travelling the universe in the TARDIS, exploring new worlds and ideas together. There were some really fantastic moments, and it hurt that she wanted them gone as well. Like their first real kiss, or the first time they made love properly. That was like home-coming to him. For the first time since the War he felt whole again. And now she wanted all this gone?

“Do you know what you’re wishing for?” he asks, covering her hand with his. She’s lying in bed on her side because she’s still sore, even though her wounds are healing nicely. It’s a good thing he found the Nonipelli sheet; or, rather, the TARDIS did. She remembers things like this for him when he’s travelling with someone who doesn’t heal as quickly as he does. He takes away his hand and replaces it with his lips. “Rose.”

The tears that have been pooling in her eyes are spilling over, collecting in the corner of her right eye before streaming over the bridge of her nose and onto the pillow. She bites her lips to stifle a sob. She nods. “I don’t want to remember. I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“What do you mean?” he asks although he has a fair idea of what she means. His hearts are breaking. He hadn’t wanted it to be like that either, but it’s so beautiful he wants to treasure the time they’ve had. If she wants to forget about it, then that means he’d have to erase the whole thing from his mind as well. It would be too painful not to be able to share it with her. And that leaves an unhealthy hole in his soul. In hers. He is sure that, together, they can make it, they can overcome the horrors and hold tight to the beauty that was them. _Is_ them.

“Us. Kissing, making love. I’d have wanted it because… we wanted it,” she whispers, her voice catching as the air squeezes past the lump in her throat.

“But,” he begins, freezing from the inside, “you didn’t… I mean…”

“You didn’t force me,” she says, freeing her hand to cup his bearded cheek.

He rocks forwards onto his knees beside her bed. He doesn’t quite understand. Why did she want to forget everything then? 

“I wasn’t ready,” she continues. “I wanted you, Doctor. God, how I wanted you. But I wanted you because… we loved each other.”

“But I do. Love you. I always have, since you first stepped inside the TARDIS with me,” he blurts. There, he’s said it. One of his last secrets.

She squeezes her eyes shut. He wipes the wetness from her nose and cheek. He’s losing her. He knows it. His hearts constrict against the cold. In some ways, this is worse than when he first woke after the War. 

“It turned something that’s supposed to be beautiful and innocent into a weapon, Doctor, that’s why,” she eventually says.

He ducks his head and plucks her hand from his cheek. She mustn’t see his own tears. She’s right, of course.

Her eyes widen when, eventually, he’s strong enough to meet her gaze again. He needs to buy some time. “You’re still in need of some rest, my love. Let’s talk about this in the morning, yeah? It’s a big decision.”

“Yeah,” she says feebly.

He leans forwards to press a kiss to her forehead, tugs a bit at the Nonipelli sheet and rises.

“What about the TARDIS?”

“She's back, and I've repaired her. We're ready to leave,” he informs her. His ship returned when he thought he'd lost Rose.

For a while, they just listen to the sounds of the Martobosian night in Paril's vast garden, where their cabin is.

“Doctor?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t hate me.”

His voice breaks when he tells her that he won’t ever be able to hate her. “Try to get some sleep.”

When she smiles he knows she does it to reassure him, not because she actually believes him. For a moment he wonders if finding such a pill wouldn’t be better for both of them. But it’s impossible.

One

When he returns to Rose a few minutes later with a cup of water from the well she’s asleep. He wanted to give her some painkillers, but obviously exhaustion has pulled her under a lot more effectively. The painkillers won’t last forever, and for as long as the TARDIS remains in hiding, they will have to make do with what they have. Paril’s people are still surprisingly accommodating; the Doctor knows they do it for Rose, not for him.

He climbs onto the massive bed and lies down behind Rose. He sneaks his hand beneath her covers to flatten his palm where it fits best, just between and beneath her shoulder blades. At the moment it’s the only spot that he can comfortably touch without causing her pain. Her skin is sticky and hot. She’s running a fever.

“Oh, Rose,” he whispers, scooting forward to place a kiss on the prominent vertebra there. He briefly licks her there to check her body chemistry. His eyes flutter shut and he sends out a brief prayer to whoever listens. For now, at least, she seems to be all right. Considering.

March Stirrings

The Doctor stood very still, the shoppers flowing around him as if he were a rock in the middle of the river, couples and groups separating as they encountered him only to join company again once they had passed him, resuming their conversations, their laughter never stopping. Some people brushed against him when their timing was bad, but the Doctor didn't even register them, nor, of course, did he apologise. How could he? He had caught the whiff of something in the air, something awfully familiar but as of yet shapeless and nameless.

Rose only realised she had lost the Doctor after she'd taken a few steps without him. The alien market was exciting although basically it wasn't that different from any other of the markets they had visited together. The stalls sold everything from kitchenware to food, fabrics and second-hand clothes, books and artwork. There were toys as well as plants and spare parts for all kinds of engines and machinery. That was what they had come for, a spare part for the TARDIS. Rose had been skeptical at first. Shopping for spare parts had proven tedious every single time so far, and she'd always wondered why she'd come along when she could have used the time off to catch up on some sleep or quality pampering time in the bathroom. She was reluctant to leave the Doctor by himself. She knew he was likely to get himself into trouble, and she had told him she wanted to be with him in case that happened to she knew what was going on. Not that she seriously thought she could make any difference. But it was better with two, and the Doctor couldn't really argue with that.

The Doctor had told her that he knew what he needed and didn't want to browse so that they'd be done within the quarter of an hour so that there'd be enough time to explore. And that was the exciting part. They’d always found something interesting or beautiful or peculiar on their forays, and Rose was looking forward to what they would discover on this trip.

She was very worried when the Doctor went suddenly missing from her side. Why hadn't they been holding hands? She turned around to see if something shiny had caught his attention at one of the stalls while she'd been looking the other way, but instead he stood a few steps behind her, very still apart from his flaring nostrils. His superior sense of smell had caught something, and now his attention was entirely focused on whatever he had caught a whiff of. 

Joining him, she gently slid her hand into his so as not to startle him. "Doctor?" she asked.

To her surprise, he turned his full attention to her immediately. "There's something in the air," he said. 

"So I gathered," she said, her tongue between her teeth.

"I know that smell. I know I know it. But why can't I tell what it is?" he said, looking at her intently, as if her eyes held the solution to the mystery.

"Well, what kind of smell do you think it is?" Rose asked. "Is it food? Herbs, maybe? Those plants over there have a very strong scent." The Doctor's gaze followed hers as she looked at a stall selling potted plants a little ways away from them. The light breeze carried waves of the aroma to them.

"No, it's not the herbs," he said. "It's something... dangerous. Something awful, something I really ought to be afraid of." Rose didn't like the sudden enthusiasm with which he told her about his discovery. He had identified that part of the smell, at least, but it was in no way reassuring. Or exciting.

"Shouldn't we get what we need then and return to the TARDIS?" Rose asked. 

"What?" the Doctor answered distractedly. This didn't bode well at all.

"We should get back to the TARDIS," Rose repeated, taking his arm.

"No, why!?" he asked in surprise. "I need to find out what it is. It might be important. It probably is very important.” 

“Important enough for you to stay and fix it?" Rose asked.

He held her gaze again. "Yes,” he replied in that distracted way that set her alarm bells ringing. This was serious, and, if her instincts were to be trusted, and they usually were, this was something Very Important and probably had to do with the Doctor himself rather than with the people visiting the market. 

"Can we still get the spare part first? Maybe you'll figure out what the smell is when you're not thinking about it too closely," Rose suggested.

He gave her hand a little tug and he grinned. "Good idea, Rose Tyler. What would I be doing without you?" he said.

"You'd do just fine," she replied.

"Nah, now that's a lie and you know it," he said, his voice a low rumble, pulling her a little closer so she was tucked against his side. The people had to flow around the two of them, but Rose didn't care. She never did when she found herself at the centre of the Doctor's undivided attention. A warm shiver travelled slowly down her spine and settled between her legs. Her eyes widened. She certainly hadn't expected that kind of reaction. How could her body betray her so? Surely, the Doctor must pick her scent up if he caught a whiff of something unknown but vaguely familiar beneath the rather strong fragrance of the herbs. 

“I think what I need is just over there,” he said, nudging her gently and beaming at her. Rose was amazed, yet again, how much like a little boy in a toy shop the Doctor could be; she’d seen him at his darkest in Henry van Statten’s vaults. He had frightened her then, but she’d also been surprised that he had listened to her when she’d told him to stop. A simple ‘No’ from her had been enough to stop a mighty Time Lord, the last of his kind who lived by his own set of rules.

“Great,” she said, sounding more relieved than enthusiastic.

“Disappointed?” he asked, clearly crestfallen.

“No, it’s just,” she began feebly, “We’ll get to other markets.”

“You are a bad liar. You are disappointed,” he said. “We’ll get that spare part and I’ll carry everything you want to buy.”

Rose closed her eyes. “It’s not about the shopping, Doctor.”

“Well, what is it then?”

Rose was a bit angry with him then. She’d thought that by now he would have got to the point where he understood that it wasn't about the shopping for her. Shopping and exploring were nice, but hadn’t he noticed how much she’d outgrown the girl he had picked up all those months ago?

“I’m worried. About you. The scent has clearly upset you,” she pointed out. “And you don’t have to do this.”

He blinked. “Do what?”

She stared at him. He could be very thick sometimes.

“I want to do this for you, Rose. I promised you we’d have fun here after I’d dealt with the spare part, and I usually keep my promises,” he said. Then, stopping a little to be able to whisper to her, “I want you to be happy, Rose.”

She froze briefly, another mix of arousal and emotion suffusing her body with warmth. Following a sudden inspiration, she rose on the balls of her feet and kissed the Doctor’s cheek. “I _am_ happy, Doctor.”

For a moment he looked amazed and a little incredulous, but before he could say something he stiffened as his nostrils flared and he caught a whiff of the unknown scent again. Rose was glad it obviously wasn’t her own scent. It was embarrassing enough for her, to be having these feelings and dreams about the Doctor that went far beyond anything that was appropriate within the confines of their relationship.

“Let’s get those parts quickly,” he urged, tugging at her hand.

“Have you figured out what it is then?” she asked. She had to hurry to keep up with his pace, and at the same time she had to dodge the other shoppers.

“Not quite, but I think we should —“

At the stall, he startled and offended the vendor by quickly pointing out the parts he needed, not taking the time to indulge in friendly banter or even to barter for the wares. He handed over the price the vendor asked without batting an eye and accepted the wrapped goods so impatiently that he almost snatched the parcel from his hands.

Rose whispered a quick apology before she tried to catch up with the Doctor.

“Doctor!”

“We need to get away from here, Rose. Run!” he urged. He would have taken her hand if he hadn’t been clutching his precious cargo to his chest.

“What? What is it? Do you know what that scent is?”

“I’ll explain later,” he said urgently. “Now, please, Rose. Run!”

Rose took the two parcels stacked up beneath his chin to make running easier for him, and she followed closely behind him, taking cover behind his back as it was their movement now that parted the shoppers.


	2. Two

Two

When she wakes again his hand has slipped down her back, his knuckles touching her skin. It feels hotter, but the stickiness is gone. He moves immediately, unable to go to sleep but unable to do anything to help her. He should lie facing Rose.

“Rose,” he says, scrambling around her to make sure she knows he hasn’t left her alone. The wick of the candle hisses and crackles as he lights it with a match.

Rose pushes herself up on her good elbow. “Can I have something to drink?”

He smiles and reaches for the glass of water he’s put on the ground beside the bed. He only allows her small sips, though. “How are you feeling?” he asks as she returns the glass to him.

“Woozy. Sleepy.” She tilts her face towards him. “Kiss me?”

Their lips meet for a brief, gentle kiss. He supports her as best he can as she lies down again.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” she says. And as if she’s read his thoughts, she carefully scoots backwards, trying not to make a false movement, so he can lie facing her.

He brushes several locks of hair out of her face. He’s tried to clean her up a little, but her hair is hopelessly filthy. Still, he enjoys playing with it. The cuts and bruises on her face stand out against her pallor, but at least they’ve closed up without becoming infected. “Don’t worry bout it.”

“The bad thing is… I meant it. I really want to forget.”

“You want to protect yourself,” he replies. He kisses the tip of her nose. What she needs to be forgiven, but he can only give her what she needs when she asks him for it.

April Birthdays

Rose sat on the jump seat, wondering what spare part they had picked up. It came in several boxes of varying sizes, one of which she had deposited on the seat beside her just before she collapsed on the free seat, panting and clutching her side. In contrast to her, the Doctor had dropped his boxes on the floor before he’d started turning dials and flipping switches on the console. Running through a crowd, weaving in and out, dodging them, stopping and starting was more exhausting than a run without obstacles. She felt as if she’d run a marathon. Of course, if she voiced her thought, the Doctor would tell her not to be silly. Funnily enough, he was breathing hard as well.

“Aren’t we going to go into the Vortex? Where it’s safe?” Rose asked as the Doctor stared intently at the screen.

“Nope,” he said cheerfully. And, sobering a little, “Not yet anyway.”

“But… why were we running then?” Rose said. The pains were starting to become less painful.

“If I can smell them, they can smell us too. Or rather, me,” he said distractedly. 

Rose frowned. She wanted to say something flippant but bit her tongue. The Doctor was clearly concerned about the people he had smelled, and his reticence about to give her an answer showed that he was so focused on the threat that it was better not to distract him. She’d have to wait for him to decide that she needed to know.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, seeing him retreat into his own little world. When she didn’t get an answer she touched the worn leather on his shoulder softly before she left. While the Doctor appreciated her presence even if he didn’t acknowledge her she didn’t feel like staying this time. He was lost in his own little world, trying to figure out what the problem was; he’d come and find her in his own time, when he was ready to bounce ideas off of her.

When he finally came to find her she was in the kitchen, preparing each of them a cuppa. He slumped at the table and watched her move around; she could feel his eyes on her. Eventually, she joined him with their mugs and put one in front of him before sitting down on the chair with one leg folded beneath her.

“Everything all right then?” she asked, wrapping her hands around the hot ceramic. She felt very cold all of a sudden.

“Yep. We managed to shake them off,” he said, grinning self-satisfied. He sipped his tea and promptly burnt his lip. His grin turned into a sheepish smile. Rose wanted to reach out for him, to touch his lip with her cold fingers.

_What are you thinking?_ she scolded herself. “Shake who off?”

“The Family of Blood. I’m quite sure it was them,” he said.

“Tell me more about them?”

“Well, they’ve got a limited life-span. Three months, they live. So…”

A shiver ran down Rose’s spine, despite the heat travelling through her body from her hands. “So they are after your blood? You’re nine-hundred years old…” 

“Yep,” he said cheerfully, remembering, this time, to blow over the tea before sipping it gingerly. “Did they see you?”

“I don’t know. There were so many people.”

“Hmm. Oh, we’ll be fine.”

She smiled at him, not sure she found him terribly reassuring. All she could do was trust him. 

“So, Rose Tyler,” he said, placing the mug down on the table and leaning towards her conspiratorially. “What shall we do for your birthday?”

“What?” Of all the questions this is not one she had anticipated. Or expected. The Doctor never tired of reminding her that he didn’t do domestic. He wouldn’t have tea with her Mum at Christmas, so she’d never even mentioned her own birthday because it almost certainly would include tea with Mum and there would be no running away. “How do you know about my birthday?”

“Everyone has a birthday,” he pointed out.

“Even you?” she asked, smiling coquettishly at him.

“Course I do!” He sounded mildly offended.

“Just asking.”

“So. What would you like to do on your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she said. She genuinely didn’t know. She hadn’t thought about her own birthday since she had started travelling with him. Suddenly, her birthday didn’t seem to be important any more. Not when she’d been to the year Five Billion and seen the Earth die.

Three

Rose falls asleep soon after. With a light touch to her temple, he gifts her with a deep and dreamless sleep because he just can’t help himself. He once told her that her wish is his command, and while she has never taken him up on the offer again, he has never forgotten about it. He could give her what she wants, but it’s dangerous. If he gave up his memory of the past year he’d put them at great danger. The Family had made it quite clear that, unlike him, they were not the last ones of their kind. The others will find him sooner or later, and he can’t risk not being aware of them.

So the only solution he can think of is taking Rose’s memory of all their time together and take her back to the Powell Estate. She’d never have known him and therefore wouldn’t miss him.

Leaving her behind would be hard and painful; losing companions is never easy, and leaving Rose behind, deprived of the experience and the memory, is a lot like losing her. He would have to kill part of her. And he isn’t sure he can do that, even if she asks him to.

Does that mean he doesn’t love her enough?

He sits up and watches her sleep for a while. Just to make sure. Then he gets up and leaves the cabin Paril has given him so he can look after Rose.

“Where are you?” he asks into the darkness, but the cicadas’ concert isn’t interrupted by his question. Their song fills the otherwise quiet night. Nights are impossibly long on this little planet, enough so that temperatures drop dramatically towards morning, but since Paril’s people live close to Martobos’ equator the equally long days heat up quite quickly.

She doesn’t answer him, hasn’t in several days, and it has him worried. The TARDIS is hiding herself. He’s sure she has very good reasons for it, and his nostrils flare as he tries to single out the Family’s smell underneath the fragrance of the night in the hilltop town. But it’s not there and he doesn’t want to trust his sense of smell.

Happy May

He took her out for dinner.

It wasn’t her birthday but a little later, and he offered to take her back, but she declined. He hadn’t forgotten about it. They’d just got distracted by an unfortunate incident in a spaceship junkyard in the gravity field of an asteroid. So he took her out nearly a week later. Not just to a chippie, but to a proper restaurant with tablecloths, napkins and a tea light between them; it floated in a shallow bowl of water, surrounded by tiny hawthorn roses.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she said, stunned. She'd never expected this, of all things.

“I wanted to,” he said, pulling out the chair for her before the waiter could do it.

Rose sat, glad that she’d listened to the Doctor when he’d told her to put on something nice. She’d have felt awfully out of place — more than she did anyway — if she’d come in here in her denims and a shirt. The Doctor, on the other hand, was his usual denim and leather-clad self. She suppressed a smile when she noticed that the place didn't require formal attire.

They ordered food and drinks, and when the latter arrived, they clinked glasses. The Doctor opened his mouth to say something, but for some reason he stopped himself, clicked his mouth shut, ducked his head and cleared his throat. When he looked up again, he grinned adorably and said, “Happy Birthday, Rose Tyler.”

She smiled and they drank.

For a while after, conversation was awkward, until her mobile trilled and her mother needed to ask her something. They’d seen each other that afternoon. Normally, calls from Mum were badly-timed, but this time it helped break up the tension. What was the matter tonight? It was her birthday; it was supposed to be nice, not this awkward thing it had shaped up to.

“Thank you for this,” Rose said.

“I can’t believe there isn’t anything I can give you,” the Doctor said.

This was a whole new side of him. He wasn’t usually one to give presents. There was something she wanted, but she couldn’t ask him for it. Kissing him would change what they had, and she was afraid of that change, afraid he’d leave her behind because things between were becoming domestic. This was pretty domestic, which was why she was so surprised in the first place. “I don’t want anything. I’m happy.”

He gave her a look that clearly communicated that he didn’t believe her. “Your wish is my command.”

“The last time you said that I nearly destroyed the universe,” Rose reminded him.

“Oh. That.” He grinned. She was still beating herself up over it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I can’t,” she said.

“Why not? You made a mistake, I fixed it. You won’t make the same mistake again.”

“How can you be so sure?” Hadn’t he realised how fiercely protective she was of the people she loved? She’d do anything to save them; him included. It made her dangerous.

“I know.”

“Have you checked my time line?”

“Nope,” he said, tucking into the chocolatey confection that had been placed before them. “What would be the fun of that?”

She attempted a smile and picked up her spoon. He could be infuriatingly obtuse sometimes. He stilled her hand with his as she was about to lift it to her mouth. “Anything, Rose. You can ask for anything.” His eyes were dark and telling her that he meant what he said. 

A shiver ran down her spine. Rose wasn’t sure if she liked the sensation, so she nodded. “Thank you.”

The mood passed quickly, and they finished the night walking along the river. At one point, Rose slid her hand into his. The Doctor’s thumb brushed over hers, and when he looked down at her in the muted light of the street’s illumination, she saw the words he’d wanted to say on his lips again. She was suddenly terrified, so she tightened her grip around his fingers. She wanted him to know that she meant what she said. “I know.”

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“Yes, I am. Thank you for tonight.”

The Doctor looked intensely at her, about to incline his head a little, when his nostrils flared. Rose knew without him telling her that he had picked up the scent of the Family.

“Doctor?”

“Run!”


	3. Four

Four

“You cannot sleep-rest, Healer, poor man?” 

The Doctor was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed Paril joining him. He looks up at the woman towering over him. Martobosians are taller than him by at least a head. Paril’s skin glows like mother-of-pearl in the pale light of the moon. When its twin rises in an hour’s time her skin will glow like embers.

“I don’t need much sleep,” he tells her.

“Oh, yes. You are-suffer a Time Lord. I forget-fail-to-remember. Such a long time since we last welcomed-received your kind here,” she says, her voice low and warm. She places her big, three-fingered hand on his shoulder.

“I’m the last one,” he says. He doesn’t need to point it out because Martobosians are highly empathic, but it feels good to say the words.

“Such a burden, Healer,” Paril says. “Come-come, my friend, you need-ought to bathe-shave.”

“But Rose,” he says, glancing back at the cabin.

“She’ll be fine-asleep, don’t worry-feel-bad,” Paril says.

“She’s running a fever,” he tells her.

Paril nods knowingly. “I’ll give her something.”

The last time he’s left her by herself she had been attacked and left in pain and bleeding. He had taken care of himself, trying to find a way to change his body’s chemistry without Rose’s help. She has helped him so readily, but he knows that he has broken her heart; it’s a price that turned out to be too high. He hates himself for taking her up on her offer. It was a terrible mistake. It’s not as if he hadn’t had any alternatives. Why hadn’t he listened to his gut and turned her down?

The truth is that he’d wanted — wants — her, that the first kiss, although rushed and taken without her consent, had sparked something inside him that made him forget who he was. It was a greater gift than he could have ever hoped for.

And Rose paid dearly for it.

He sighs. Maybe he should give her what she wants in return. 

He nods and follows the benignly smiling Paril. He feels mother-henned in her company, something he’d normally resent, but he’s too tired to really object. And just maybe a bath will help him clear his thoughts.

Iridescent June

The Doctor was breathless by the time he slammed the TARDIS doors behind him. In his haste he’d pushed open both wings and they’d stumbled through them, tripping over each other’s feet. Rose had crashed into the railing, feeling the Doctor’s supportive touch on her back as he tried to at once break her fall and slam the doors shut at the same time. Rose was momentarily winded and gently lowered herself to the worn parquet floor as the Doctor locked the doors securely and turned around to lean against it. There was, however, only the slightest of smiles on his lips, and it died soon. It terrified Rose and she sat, unable to move.

“We’d better get going,” he said.

Still trying to catch her breath, Rose just nodded in agreement.

The Doctor hurried past her, the floor moving slightly and groaning beneath his weight and the beat of his heavy boots. She could hear him prepare the dematerialisation sequence, but she sat still.

It was the Family, and they had found them. Rose didn’t even want to begin to imagine how they’d accomplished it, but given that they lived only three months, she assumed that they were driven by despair, coupled with the will to survive. You’d think that they’d resign themselves to the fact their life-span was limited; it was part of their species, after all. But then again, weren’t humans always looking for ways to prolong life, to stay young and attractive as long as possible?

The TARDIS wheezed and hummed as she took them to the safety of the Vortex. The Doctor roused her from her thoughts when he squatted before her, holding out his hand to help her up. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Rose blinked. “What for?”

“For ruining your birthday.”

“You didn’t,” she said, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her to her feet. “We need to find a way to deal with them.”

“No,” he replied gravely, “we don’t. We’ll have to sit this one out.”

“But—”

“Rose, there are some species out there that you simply do not want to cross, the Family among them.”

Her world crumbled a little at the edges at that. She’d thought that the Doctor was able to deal with anyone and anything, but of course that was a foolish, and probably dangerous, assumption. “Is there nothing you can do but hide?”

He didn’t reply at once, and Rose sensed that there probably was a way of dealing with them, but for some reason he was reluctant to share it with her. “No. Besides, I must try to find out how they’ve managed to find us. The Family aren’t supposed to have that kind of technology,” he explained.

“So it isn’t their sense of smell,” she concluded.

He grinned appreciatively. “It only works inside an atmosphere.”

“So space is like water to dogs, yeah? Dogs can’t pick up any scent in the water,” Rose said.

“Yep.” He adjusted some settings on the console, and seemed to forget about her as he lost himself in an idea which probably turned into a theory.

Rose stayed for a bit, made him a cup of tea, watched him work a little more and then decided to go to bed. “See you in the morning,” she said, trailing her fingers over his leather-armoured shoulder.

“Yeah,” he replied distractedly. He was working on something, and that something seemed to be promising.

-:-

A month passed, happily devoid of the Family. Rose never forgot completely about them, they remained at the back of her mind in the uncomfortable shape of a job yet to be done; an unwelcome job, a chore, at that. One morning, the Doctor seemed very excited about something as she stepped into the console room. They’d enjoyed a slow couple of days, so Rose hadn’t bothered changing from her pyjamas. She had made them some tea, however. Giving him his mug, she told him to be careful. Nervous tension rolled off him in waves, making her fully awake.

“What is it, Doctor?”

“I’ve never given you anything for your birthday.”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Yes, you did. You took me out for dinner.”

“Yeah, but—” He studied the contents of his mug. Then he looked up. “I wanted you to have this. And then the Family found us and I forgot.” He reached inside his jacket pocket for something, and when he opened his palm he revealed a small sachet of iridescent material. “Happy birthday, Rose.”

Rose looked at him intensely before she picked the sachet up. “Thank you.”

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t say thank you,” she pointed out, tucking the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. She undid the drawstrings and emptied the contents on the Doctor’s palm. It was a pendant, a simple mother-of-pearl disk about the size of a two pence piece.

“Turn it over,” he suggested.

The uneven back was coated in silver and the light of the centre column brought out the engraving. Rose recognised the circular pattern. It was the script on the TARDIS screen. She was about to ask him what it said when the circular pattern unravelled itself to curl into the Doctor’s cursive handwriting. “I shall not leave you,/My hand is in your hand;/You and I shall wander/In all the places fair,” the Doctor said softly. “It’s Ancient Egyptian.”

Silence hung between them for a few beats. And she lost sense of time for a bit, but it can’t have been too long before she said, “It’s beautiful.” When she picked the pendant up the writing unfurled and reshaped itself into the Gallifreyan characters. She noticed a movement from the corner of her eye; the Doctor had moved away from her, sipping his tea. The moment had passed, but the declaration of love was there, in his handwriting, on a pendant to wear around her neck, to keep close to her heart.

Five

Rose is still asleep when he joins her in the cabin after his bath. She seems not to have woken in his absence, she’s not moved at all. He has brought more water for her to drink, laced with a herbal infusion that will help reduce her fever. For a few moments he’s torn between letting her sleep and waking her. Rose’s lips are cracked, and dehydration certainly won’t help her heal.

He sets the pitcher down at a safe distance, where he won’t knock it over by accident. He takes off the sarong Eenot has given him. Then he lies down facing Rose. Just for a short while, then he’ll wake her.

“You’re naked,” she whispers.

He has no idea how long he’s been asleep. The fact that his sense of time is a bit off is a sign that he needs his rest too. But he can’t, not until he can be sure that Rose will be all right.

“They took my clothes when I bathed,” he says.

“Shaved too,” she points out, cupping his cheek with her palm. She winces briefly as the movement causes her some pain.

“Rose, don’t. You need to stay still to heal.”

“’S hard,” she says. Then her eyes drift to the pillow. His gaze follows hers and he sees the TARDIS key and the disc of mother-of-pearl. He’s wearing Rose’s necklace. “I thought I’d lost it,” she says, trailing her fingers over the pendants.

“I thought I’d take it for safe-keeping,” he said, unable, for some reason, to say he was sorry for causing her distress over this.

“The key’s not glowing,” she says, weighing it on her fingers.

“But my promise is,” he points out. The wan lamp light catches in the silver back of the disc.

“Yeah.”

They sit up and he helps her drink, tugging the Nonipelli sheet into place as it inevitably slides off her body in the process.

“I can’t lie down again. My good side hurts too,” she says, licking some drops of water off her upper lip. 

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah,” she sighs.

“Here,” he says, “lie on top of me. It’s more comfortable than lying flat on your stomach on the mattress.” Rose hesitates briefly, but then she crawls on top of him. It takes them a while to make themselves comfortable, to arrange their limbs and pull the Nonipelli sheet safely into place. Rose ends up lying cradled between his legs; that way, she tells him, she won’t be too heavy for him and he won’t have her filthy hair all over his face.

“I just want you to be comfortable,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head. She doesn’t answer him. Their brief conversation and sitting up have worn her out and she’s asleep again. Her skin is still hot from the fever and he hopes that Paril’s concoction will take effect soon.

Luminous July

“We need to go back to Martobos,” the Doctor announced one morning as she came into the kitchen for some tea. He’d already prepared it for her, just the way she liked it. If she hadn’t known better she’d have said he was trying to sweeten his news. Rose accepted the mug and sat on her favourite chair, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“Remind me which place that was?” she asked after she’d carefully sipped her tea. It was, of course, perfect.

“The planet where I first picked up the scent of the Family,” he said.

“Oh. Is that because of the Family or because of the spare part you need for the TARDIS?”

He seemed baffled.

“You’ve been tinkering a lot with her,” she explained. “You didn’t get what you were looking for, did you?”

He grinned. “Yup.”

“And it’s going to be dangerous.”

“Yup.” He was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Lately, he’d stopped wearing his leather jacket when they were in the kitchen or in the library; he'd often leave it on the jump seat in the console room or draped over the railing or struts there. He never left the ship without it, however. There were things in his bigger-on-the-inside pockets that had come in handy on several occasions. 

“When do we leave?”

“Ah,” he said, ducking his head. As he did, his grin disappeared. It remained gone when he looked at her again. “You’re not coming, Rose.”

“What? You can’t leave me here, wondering if you’re all right,” she said.

“Rose, we’ve discussed this. You’d wander off and I’ve told you several times never to wander off.”

“But this time is different. Please, Doctor. We’d be quick, there and back again in a flash.”

He smiled briefly, ducked his head again. It seemed as if he were considering the idea for a while, but then he pushed himself away from the counter. “No.”

“Why?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

Rose took a deep breath. “For you.”

His head snapped up. “Which makes it even more dangerous for you.”

“No. I’m not a Time Lord. I don’t smell like you,” she said. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t given the matter any thought at all. On the contrary. She’d hardly been able to think of anything else in the past weeks. Everything the Doctor had said about the Family had undergone close examination so she’d be able to figure out what it was that he wasn’t telling her.

The Doctor stared at her. His eyes hardened and he leaned against the counter again, his arms folded in front of his chest. She had sussed him out, and he didn’t like it one bit. But he was giving her credit. “I can’t send you.”

“Give me a photo of the part and I’ll get it for you,” she suggested.

“You’ve been giving this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” he asked, sighing.

“I’ve had plenty of time,” she said gently.

“You have, haven’t you.” He dropped his arms and gripped the edge of the counter behind him instead. “The thing is, I need to go myself. There are other options if I don’t find what I need. You’d… it’d be too complicated to send you.”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “What are you not telling me, Doctor?”

His eyes widened. He realised he had lost, that he’d been stared down by a girl in jimjams and sleep-tousled hair. “There is a way.”

Rose relaxed as the tension melted off her and was replaced by curiosity. “Yeah?”

“I could rewrite my biology. Hide my consciousness and become human, like you, or Martobosian. It’d change my body chemistry.”

“And your smell,” Rose concluded. Then she frowned. “It sounds painful.”

“Yup.”

“You could actually do that?” This time it were her eyes that widened.

“Yup. Chameleon Arch.”

“How painful?”

He shrugged. “Quite.”

She put her mug down on the formica-topped table. “I won’t allow it.”

“Oh?” he guffawed, frowning. “Since when?”

“Isn’t there any other way?”

There was. She could see it. He flushed, the tips of his ears turning a lovely shade of pink. Still, he shook his head. Why was he lying to her?

“Can’t you scan the market for the Family and nip out quickly?” she asked.

“Yup. That was the plan.”

“And I’m coming with you. Maybe, if I’m with you, it won’t be so easy for them to get wind of you,” she reasoned. “Besides, there were so many smells anyway.”

“All right,” he said, the tension leaving his body. “I’ll have to hide the TARDIS away, though. Some rest will do her good. I’ve really taken her to her limit.”


	4. Six

Six

“’S nice,” Rose mumbles, stirring on top of him. “But I can’t sleep like this. And neither can you.”

He tightens his hold around her. She is getting a bit heavy, but he’s loathe to let her go. He needs the physical contact; it keeps him grounded. “I’m fine.”

“Liar.” She shifts and pushes herself up onto her elbows. He gasps. The night air is cool on his skin where she’s been warming him. Of course, she interprets it as a sigh of relief. “See.”

“Just… don’t leave me,” he says. “Here, let’s lie like this.” He nudges her so she’s lying half on top of him, her top leg resting between his. His right hand comes to rest on the swell of her hip where she’s not hurt so badly; just a few scratches there, nothing that his hand would aggravate. To reassure both of them he drops a kiss on top of her head. 

Rose sighs. “That’s better.”

So this isn’t about making him uncomfortable — she was, but she didn’t know how to tell him without hurting his feelings. _Oh, Rose._ What had he done to deserve her?

  
Gorgeous August

They were distracted from their plan by a call for help the Doctor received on his psychic paper. It was an old friend of his on a distant planet. An epidemic of The Blue Spots was decimating the populace of the major cities, and the Doctor had the knowledge and the means to cultivate a special kind of gelatinous fungus that was the basis of the cure. For weeks all Rose could smell was the tangy smell of the Obshujujid fungus, even when she luxuriated in a heavily scented bath. Eventually, the Doctor gave her a small jar of lip balm that masked the offensive smell.

She opened the jar and gathered some of the translucent, odourless gel to rub it into her lips with her finger when the Doctor stopped her. “No, Rose, wait.” He dipped his finger into the jar as well and gently dabbed the gel onto the skin above her cupid’s bow. She flinched at the coolness and the unexpected touch at first but then she held still. The Doctor’s touch was gentle, reluctant as if he were afraid of breaking something — her — but he needn’t be. What shook her more was the tenderness and the eroticism of the gesture, the slight roughness of his calloused fingertip on the soft skin above her lip. And then she smelled it, the earthen, spicy scent of a meadow after a light summer rain.

“Oh,” she breathed.

“What does it smell like?” he asked.

She told him.

“Lovely,” he replied, grinning. “I’d wondered what you’d come up with.”

“What? Why?”

“The gel tricks your brain into associating the smell it receives with something pleasant. Funnily enough, this gel contains a bit of Obshujujid fungus,” he explains. “It’s not lip balm. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it earlier.”

“How do you cope with the smell?”

“I don’t find it as offensive any more,” he replied. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“You’ve been busy and… I didn’t think it could be helped.”

He cupped her cheek. “Always ask, Rose. There’s almost always something that I can do.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. She could still feel his finger her on upper lip. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“My pleasure.”

A couple of weeks later, when they’d made sure that the cure worked, the Doctor and she stole away when no one was looking. Their destination was Martobos. The TARDIS was badly in need of the parts he hadn’t managed to get on their last visit there. He seemed tense on their journey, both because the TARDIS needed a lot of encouragement to keep going — though he knew she’d never let them down — and because of the threat from the Family. If they had noticed that the time ship was in bad need of some repairs and pampering, the Family would certainly lie in wait for the Doctor at the market.

Rose walked up to the Doctor where he was bent over the console. His eyes were closed and his brow furrowed in concentration as he communicated with his ship. Strangely enough, his mouth wasn’t a thin line as it so often was when he was tense or disapproved of something. His lips were slightly parted. He had opened himself completely to his ship. He looked gorgeous.

For a moment she was tempted to leave him alone, but she wanted to reassure him, even if her reassurance was probably a small, an insignificant gesture to the Time Lord. He knew how to fix things, he’d be able to cope without her helpless gesture. She touched his arm.

He let go of the console and covered her hand with his before she had a chance to withdraw. “We’ll be all right, yeah?” she asked.

He grinned. “‘Course we will. I’ve got you.” A warmth suffused his eyes, a tenderness, that she’s rarely seen in them, and she was about to gasp or shiver, or both, when he laughed and nudged her. Then he drew her into his arms and gave her one of his bear hugs. Rose returned the embrace, pouring all her feelings for him into pressing into him and drawing him towards her as if —

Well. She just wanted him to know that the gesture was deeply appreciated, and maybe he’d understand that there was so much more she was ready to give him. Maybe. Probably not.

He buried his nose in her hair, and then he kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Rose.”

They stepped from the TARDIS into the dry heat of a Martobosian summer’s day. They went back inside to leave behind their jackets before they took each other by the hand and went back outside in search of the much needed parts. When Rose turned around the TARDIS was still in plain sight. “Didn’t you want to hide the TARDIS?”

“I did. We can still see her — no point in hiding her so well that we won’t be able to find her. Just in case.” They were in a quiet, overgrown courtyard. It seemed to be home to a former trading company, but going by the disrepair of the building it hadn’t been used in a long time. 

Rose nodded in agreement. They squeezed through a narrow opening in the gateway and Rose memorised the building so she’d be able to find her way back.

The market was around the corner, and as they went Rose paid particular attention to landmarks. “Relax,” the Doctor said at one point, pulling her close.

She smiled a bit unhappily up at him and nodded.

Finding what they needed proved a tad difficult. The place the Doctor usually went to was closed because the owner had gone on holiday — “Foraging, more like,” the Doctor mumbled. “Which is good. Means he’ll come back with new stuff.”

“Yeah,” Rose said. “I’m a bit thirsty. Can we get some of that fantastic Umm juice?”

The Doctor bought two tall glasses of the lime green juice and they sat in the shade of a narrow alley next to the juice shop to enjoy it. It exploded on Rose’s palate in all its slightly fizzy, flowery glory. She’d never tasted anything so good before. 

“Rose?” the Doctor suddenly asked, perking up.

“What?” She accepted the Doctor’s glass as he pushed it into her free hand. His nostrils were flaring. It was obvious that despite his reassurances he had picked up a scent.

“Is it the Family?” she whispered as if that made it easier for him to concentrate on the smell he was trailing.

“Yeah,” he said, fixing her with a stare that sent shivers down her spine. His eyes were filled with regret and fear, but there was also determination. “I’m sorry, Rose.” He framed her face with his hands, the skin of his palms rough against her sticky cheeks.

“Doctor?”

“I’m sorry.”

Then he kissed her. At first it was just a press of lips on lips, but soon he tilted his head a little and at the new angle he slid his tongue between her lips and into her mouth. Rose was so surprised that she stiffened at first but relaxed quickly, surprised by how gentle the kiss was despite the forceful beginning. He tasted of Umm juice and his tongue was deliciously cool. She felt the condensation-coated glasses slip from between her fingers. They shattered on the wooden cobbles, but the sound only registered from a distance. She was too caught up in the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his back to hold him close, to let him know that whatever had inspired the kiss she was okay with it.

His tongue explored her thoroughly, allowing her own to explore him as well. The longer the kiss lasted the more subtle the taste of the Umm juice became and the more distinct the Doctor’s taste. Rose wasn’t sure how to describe it, but it didn’t matter. He was kissing her. And she was kissing him.

Eventually, she pulled away from him. As nice as this was — “I need to breathe!” she gasped.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, smoothing her palm against his jumper-clad chest. She could feel his hearts racing. “What was that for?”

“Protection. It’s the Family.”

Rose frowned. “What?”

“Your saliva — the kiss conceals my smell. They won’t be able to find me now. For a while at least,” he hastily explained.

“Oh. How long for?”

“A couple of hours. Come on, we don’t have much time. I really need the transproximal temporal recalibration thingamajig.” He took her hand and pulled her out of the cool shade and into the street that was teeming with people, where they were easily hidden from view by the tall bodies of the Martobosians. Rose felt herself reminded of what being a child surrounded by adults had been like. She adjusted her grip around the Doctor’s hand as they hurried through the crowd. The pressure of his lips on hers and the feel of his tongue against hers were a pleasant reminder of what had just happened, but there was no time to dwell on it. They had to run.

Seven

Paril told him that Rose’s fever would rise very quickly and alarmingly before the infusion would bring it down equally swiftly. He just hadn’t thought that it would be as bad as it is. When she becomes too hot he slides out from underneath her and does his best to take care of her. He feels helpless; all he can really do is try to keep her cool with wet towels on her fever-dampened skin. He sees the beauty in the way he’s nursing her, part of him marvels at it. But it’s the other part, the part that reminds him of the slap Jackie would give him if she knew, that reminds him of how seriously ill Rose is.

Rose is very still as the fever rages within her. She’s almost prone, one knee is drawn up a little, tilting her body, and one hand rests just beneath her chin giving him a view of her face. Through it all, she’s barely conscious, and when she begins to bleed he knows that there is to be no new life to take care of. 

In a way, it’s a blessing. He can give her what she thinks she wants; oblivion if not innocence; the chance to start a great life in her London. But his own cheeks are wet too. The lump that has formed in his throat suddenly dislodges and he hiccups as he presses a towel between her legs. Then he allows himself to make his anguish heard, hoping that Rose is so far gone that her delirious mind won’t register his sobs. If anything, what he’s learned from this all is how much he really loves Rose. 

Having a child with her isn’t something he’s ever seriously contemplated, and when she kept getting her period after they started having sex he was relieved and sorry. It is better this way. A child would tie Rose to him and he can’t ask that of her. He has loved before and he knows that loving someone means letting them go eventually. It’s not that he wants her to go, but he knows that Rose is young, that one day she might find someone who can give her a better life than this.

He decides he’ll ask her one more time if giving up her memory is really what she wants.

He stands, stretches and steps outside to compose himself.

Quench September

They returned to the abandoned courtyard in which they had left the TARDIS, but when they squeezed through the narrow opening in the portal, there was no blue box. The Doctor stopped so abruptly that Rose had to do a dance-like step to avoid crashing into him. “But… that’s impossible!” the Doctor gasped.

“Where is she, Doctor?” Rose asked. “Where is the TARDIS?”

“She’s gone,” he said, his voice nearly inaudible beneath the squeaking of the birds that had built their homes in the nooks and crannies of the courtyard. Low eaves, storage doors on the upper floor and lots of vines made the place ideal to be claimed by all sorts of animals. And, Rose supposed, they’d stay there as well. Now that the TARDIS was gone.

“Why? How?”

“I don’t know,” he said, turning towards her. The helplessness on his face terrified her. She reached for the key around her neck. The metal was warm, but Rose knew it was because of her body’s warmth rather than the ship’s close proximity. The gentle glow, almost imperceptible if you didn’t know what you were looking for, was gone too. The key cooled as she held it out for the Doctor to inspect on her fingers.

“She’s gone,” he repeated.

“But she’ll come back,” Rose couldn’t help saying, putting all her confidence and trust into her voice. For a split second, she thought she could see the Doctor’s hearts break as his eyes softened. But the moment was gone quickly.

“Eventually. Hopefully,” he said, flashing her a grin.

“Don’t do that to me, Doctor,” she said.

He cocked his head a little although he knew exactly what she was on about.

“Don’t lie to me. Ever. That’s my Rule,” she said, infusing her voice with a seriousness that made his gaze darken. But he nodded. He took her seriously. 

“So.”

“The Family haven’t seen us,” he said. “That’s good. Now, we can either hide in plain sight or stay here.” He swept his hand in a proud, inviting gesture around to show off the grandeur of the courtyard. He’d made this his home already. He grinned at her to win her over.

“We can’t afford a hotel, or a room,” Rose pointed out. 

“Nope.”

“You do have your sonic and the psychic paper, though,” she said.

He grinned widely. Then he patted his chest for non-existent pockets and the real ones of his black jeans. Rose’s heart sank. “Ah. That.” 

Rose slumped against him and he hugged her. “We’ll be all right.”

-:-

They explored the abandoned warehouse and found a few things they could use after they were given a good scrub. Then they took the money the Doctor had pocketed for TARDIS parts into town to buy some food and used clothes, blankets, and a hurricane lamp Their own clothes were unsuitable for the heat and the Doctor insisted that they change lest they suffer from heat stroke. Wearing local clothes would also help conceal them from the Family.

“When do we need to kiss again?” Rose asked one night. They were sitting on the top balcony running the perimeter of the courtyard, hidden away in the shadow of the overhanging eaves. If anyone were to come into the courtyard they’d never know they were there. 

The Doctor made a sound that was close to scoffing. “When I smell them.”

“Hmm.” Rose heard the floor boards creak beneath his weight as he shifted. They were sitting with their backs against the wall, sharing the juice they had made from stolen Umm fruit. The day had held another fruitless visit to the shops. It was the sixteenth.

“I was just wondering. You haven’t… smelled the Family in a while.”

“No.”

Rose closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the pink wall. She’d better shut up. Nothing she could say would be right. He had told her that her saliva protected him for a couple of hours. Those had long passed. “I just want you to be safe,” she said. She couldn’t tell him that she had actually enjoyed kissing him.

He didn’t answer.

“There is another way, isn’t there? Of concealing your smell? Besides the chameleon arch, which isn’t an option any more, and me kissing you,” Rose mused despite herself.

Rose had started to wonder why he was ignoring her, when he said, “You don’t want to know.”

“Try me.” His taciturnity was a challenge. Hadn’t he realised that yet? She saw him drink from his glass as she turned her head to look at his shadowy form.

“It’s sex, Rose,” he sighed, a bit in exasperation, a bit in relief. “The exchange of bodily fluids does the trick. Human DNA is quite powerful in that regard. It covers up my Gallifreyan DNA.”

Rose blinked into the darkness. It made sense. Kissing was about bodily fluids as well, after all. Looking at the kiss like that, it wasn’t very romantic. Nor had it helped her to make an educated guess herself. She could have made that connection. But she wasn’t so clinical about the physical aspect of love. Sex. When he put it like that… it seemed disgusting. To him. To her it just meant having sex instead of making love.

She wanted to make love to him. She really did, and had that way for quite a while. Only, she hadn’t dared even think of it coherently or consciously because she was afraid of what would happen if he knew. It would be the end of their… whatever it was they had. Friendship wasn’t a good enough word any more. Relationship was too strong. She could be bold and tell him that she’d sleep with him. There. That was a way of putting it that didn’t involve the powerful feelings each of them associated with _the exchange of bodily fluids._

“I cannot ask that of you. Kissing you is…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Rose closed her eyes. “Why don’t you ask me then?”

“Rose!” He sounded scandalised.

“I’ll sleep with you if it keeps you safe. I’d do anything to keep you safe,” she said. _Don’t you know anything about me, Doctor?_

“It wouldn’t be right,” he tried to explain. Rose sensed there was more, but for once he couldn’t find the words to explain it. To her surprise, he reached for her hand in the darkness and gave her fingers a squeeze.


	5. Eight

Eight

“Oh. Oh, no,” Rose whispers when she comes back to her senses. She still has a temperature but it was no longer worryingly high. The Doctor’s smile of relief dies on his lips. Rose’s hand goes straight for the towel he has put between her legs.

“It’s all right, Rose,” he says, brushing back some locks of hair. How soft it is in places, and caked with dirt in others, where he wasn’t able to wash it properly.

Her head snaps up, and in the darkness her eyes are so black all he can see in them are the reflection of the light and bits of his own face. “I’m so sorry. For this… mess.”

“Don’t be. I took care of it. It’s bad timing, but it was to be expected. And you were a little late anyway,” he points out; bites his tongue. He shouldn’t have said that. What if she’d suspected she might be pregnant? It’s a new pain to pile on top of the rest. But she wouldn’t have asked him to take her memory if she’d suspected anything. Rose is clever. She knows that a baby would make her wish impossible. She’d never put herself over the well-being of her child or anyone's, for that matter. It’s one reason why he loves her.

“You’re keeping tabs on my periods?”

He shrugs and he is glad that she can’t see him blush in the darkness. “Gallifreyans and Humans are probably not easily compatible.”

“Oh, right.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Thirsty.”

He smiles. He can fix the latter at least. Afterwards, she curls up on her side. “Cramps,” she explains.

“Oh.”

She takes his hand. “Can you rub my stomach a little? Sometimes it helps.”

He smiles. “Of course.”

Roller Coaster October

When their money was close to running out the Doctor got a job, in a manner of speaking. He went to the shops he frequented for looking for TARDIS parts and volunteered to repair the gadgets that noone else had been able to. He also stepped in as a translator for off-worlders. When he got so busy with work that he couldn’t accompany her, she took the money he earned and went to the market hall alone.

She’d quickly found the nice vendors, the ones who would help her get what she wanted instead of ripping her off because she didn’t understand the language. It had helped, of course, that she’d gone back to complain the second time someone had sold her fruit and vegetables at a horrendous price. The Doctor had laughed when she told him what she’d done, calling her his “little ape” again. He’d then got a very good impression of what had happened at the market hall. And then he’d pulled her towards him and kissed her.

“That wasn’t for protection,” Rose pointed out.

“Yes, it was,” he said, holding her by the upper arms.

Rose glared at him, then she blew a puff of air into his face which threw him and she claimed his mouth for a fierce kiss. “It was not,” she panted as she withdrew and looked at him. He’d been more than a little startled. He nodded.

That had been two nights ago. Nothing had happened between them since then. Rose had finished her shopping for the day and went to meet the Doctor at one of the shops in the mechanics’ street. He looked tired when she saw him bent over a piece of machinery beneath the awning, concentrating on a fiddly job. “Need a hand with this?” she asked.

He looked up and grinned. “Yeah.” He showed her what needed to go where and how to fix it. “This would be a lot easier with my sonic.” It was the first time he had complained about the absence of his ubiquitous tool. 

“You’ve got me,” she murmured, concentrating on fitting the two pieces together. She managed to get it right on the second attempt, thanks to her smaller fingers. “There.”

“Fantastic!” he cried and placed a kiss on her lips. Then he jumped up to give the piece a polish and fitted it inside its casing. Rose watched him, half amused and half bemused. If only she could look into that funny old brain of his and see what was going on in there. She didn’t dare look into his hearts, afraid of what she’d not find there.

Rugol, the owner of the workshop, touched her back and showed her where she could wash her hands, smiling at her and nodding at the Doctor. He said something to her that included her name in the Martobosian language. Since there were no roses on this planet, or any similar flowers, the Martobosians called her _imanati_ — petals. She smiled at him a little helplessly, wishing she could understand him. When the TARDIS had vanished so had her ability to understand, and talk to, the locals. The Doctor, of course, had no problems in that regard.

He seemed to have overheard what Rugol had said, his face suddenly looked like the oncoming storm as he turned to tell his boss off. Rugol regarded him calmly, listening to what the Doctor had to tell him. Then he shook his head and reached for Rose’s clean hand and placed it over the Doctor’s right heart. “Imanati,” he said, looking at her. Then he stabbed his finger at the Doctor’s chest as if he wanted to tell her that she belonged to him. “Besin. Dosy?”

“Dosy,” Rose nodded her yes to reassure him that she’d understood him. Besin was healer, the locals’ name for the Doctor.

Rugol grunted and let go of her hand. Rose left it where it was, until the Doctor covered it with his.

“We didn’t just get married, did we?” Rose asked. Ridiculous as the notion was, she needed to say something to relieve the tension between them.

“No, but there’s a promise,” he said, his eyes softening a little. “I want to honour it, Rose, but I… I don’t think I can and do you justice.”

“Try, Doctor. _Dosy_?” she said, her heart beating a frantic tattoo inside her chest.

“ _Dosy._ ”

When they returned to the warehouse the TARDIS was still gone. Both of them half-expected the ship to be sitting in the shadows humming in greeting, returned from where she’d gone off to. The Doctor had no idea where she was hiding, and why. They were safe here, and the Family hadn’t shown up in a long time. But neither had Orol, the vendor who was most likely to find what the Doctor needed. 

When they lit the light in their lofty home, however, they realised that someone was waiting for them. Rose cried out in surprise and the Doctor’s nostrils flared as he tried to find out if the tall person in their room was Martobosian or Family.

The woman remained seated, but her voice still carried authority. Rose didn’t understand a word of what was being said. Both the Doctor and the woman sounded calm but Rose could sense the tension underlying their words. She jumped a little when the Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. The only thing she was able to make out were their names and a few other words she’d picked up. Like yes and no and sorry.

The woman finally regarded her carefully.

“Doctor?” Rose asked, standing her ground at the close scrutiny.

“This is Paril. The warehouse is her family’s. Someone saw us and so she’s finally come to check on us. We can’t stay here,” he explained quickly.

“What?” her eyes flew to his in alarm. Where were they supposed to go?

“Paril needs a mechanic. I’ll go to work for her. I’ve told her I won’t go anywhere without you.” He strengthened the grip around her hand in reassurance. “You’re welcome as well.”

“But we’re squatters!” Rose cried. “And we can’t leave. What about the TARDIS?”

“My talents are also very sought-after. I suppose Rugol is involved in this,” he said. “And since the TARDIS is hiding, I don’t think she’ll miss us. She’ll find us. Or rather, we’ll find her when the time is right.”

“ _Besin?_ ” Paril asked.

Nine

He’s found her knickers and has helped her put them on, as well as as well as wrapping the sarong he’d taken off earlier around her waist. Rose is more relaxed now that she no longer has to suffer the indignity of the towel wedged between her thighs. Still, he’s a bit reluctant to pull her into his arms. He doesn’t want to hurt her. In addition to scrapes and cuts, she suffered several heavily bruised ribs, and it will take time for them to heal. It will be a long time before he can hold her without being afraid of causing her pain. Lying with her on top of him had been nice. Maybe they’d be able to work something out.

“I’m sorry,” she says. Her head is cradled on his thigh and he’s rubbing her bare arm in a soothing pattern. 

“What for?” 

“For making things so difficult,” she says.

“Don’t worry, love. The Family won’t get me now,” he whispers.

“If I hadn’t wandered off I –” she whispers.

She’s beating herself up over saving lives. It’s not right. “Don’t do that, Rose. You broke the Rule, but you’ve broken it so many times before,” he said.

“And bad things always happen. Every single time!” she cries.

“But this time, you saved a dozen children. You had a good reason, Rose,” he reminds her. “The best ever.” It shuts her up. Well, this and his fingertips on her lips. “I’m proud of you, Rose.”

“I don’t feel anything,” Rose says. “I’m… numb.”

“But you said you were sore.” He’s confused and alarmed. She hasn’t mentioned any numbness before. Has he missed something when he examined her?

“My body, Doctor,” she reminds him. She takes his hand and lifts her arm so she can place it on her chest. “But in here I’m numb.”

“Oh.” That. He knows the feeling. He’d hoped Rose never would.

Numb November

They stayed at the warehouse after all. The Doctor had convinced Paril that having them there would make sure that no one else would take to squatting there. The matriarch insisted on fitting the place with a few amenities, which included a key and a lock. In addtion to the work he did for the vendors, the Doctor began helping out on Paril’s estate.

Rose, on the other hand, was bored to tears. Rose realized her lack of formal schooling had left her with little to contribute aside from daily chores and companionship for the Doctor in the the domestic life they’d begun since the TARDIS’s disappearance. Quitting school hadn’t prepared her for much more than being a shopgirl or someone’s ‘girl’ but she had always wanted more. Leaving Jimmy Stone had been a massive step, and Mickey had given her as much time as she needed to figure out what that was. And then the Doctor had come along. And then the Doctor had come along.

One day Rose discovered that Paril’s workshop was close to a side street that catered to those craving entertainment. Rose loved listening to the storytellers there even though she didn’t understand a single word of what they were saying. Some of them were so good, however, that watching them change their expressions or act out certain passages made her laugh or cry or gasp. Some of them began to recognise her as time went by, and sometimes Rose would give them biscuits or cupcakes she had made. She kept her baking a secret from the Doctor because she feared that he’d find the activity too domestic. She had no doubt, however, that he could smell that she had baked when he returned to the top floor of the warehouse. If he did, he never said, but she hadn’t missed the slight frown that carved deep lines into his forehead sometimes. Her cakes were her way of paying the storytellers, and they kept her busy.

Another thing she discovered was that there were several street artistes who amazed the crowd with their acrobatics. They reminded her of her days as a gymnast, and of when she’d first met the Doctor. She watched them attentively, and when she got home she tried to emulate what she’d seen. In the process she remembered some of the choreographies she had practised. One day there was a competition for the spectators and Rose stepped forward and showed what she could do.

She didn't notice the Doctor watching as she took stage to perform. She had put together some dance steps, some bits of her old routine and what she’d learned from the Martobosians. When she whirled and arched and danced she felt more like herself than she had in a long time and everything else faded into the background. The roar of applause did not register because all she could see, as she stood panting and bowing, was the Doctor’s face in the crowd. All she could see as she stood panting and bowing was the Doctor’s amazed face in the crowd. Strangely enough, it didn’t take her long to single him out although she hadn’t told him of her plans to participate to him.

He was surprised and proud, grinning broadly as he clapped along with the others. It occurred to her that he was a small, dark dot among the crowd of tall, mother-of-pearl Martobosians. There were quite a few other travellers in the crowd as well, but not many of them looked human.

Rose laughed.

Then the Doctor’s gaze darkened and his nostrils flared. He was picking up the scent of the Family. Rose’s eyes left him to search the audience for the Family despite the fact that she had no idea what she was looking for.

He hadn’t smelled them in a while, yet the fear of it happening had always been with them as they sat on the balcony during the long, softly glowing Martobosian nights.

The ringmaster approached her and started speaking to her, but she didn’t understand a word of what he was saying.

“Rose!” The Doctor detached himself from the spectators and ran towards her, reaching for her hand. Rose took it and let him pull her through the crowd who parted in surprise at their flight.

By the time they reached the warehouse Rose was gasping for breath. She hadn’t recovered from her performance, and the Doctor had torn through the streets and the milling shoppers at breakneck speed. He slammed the door behind them and pressed her up against the wall. “I’m sorry,” he managed to say. Even he was out of breath, despite his respiratory bypass.

“The Family,” she gasped to let him know that she understood. His body was hard and hot against hers, the press of him against her painful where her shoulders pushed against the stone wall.

She knew what was coming, still his bruising kiss made her stiffen and her eyes go wide. The Doctor practically plundered her mouth with need for safety. She slowed him down a little as she managed to cup his cheek, signalling him that she was willing to help. More than willing.

Eventually, she was able to push him away. “I’m not going anywhere, Doctor,” she panted.

“Of course,” he said, taking a step backwards to give her some space. He held on to her, however. His lips were swollen and the blue had all but disappeared from his eyes. Rose noticed the bulge in his jeans.

“We need to,” she began.

“Rose,” he protested.

She reached up to shut him up with her hand over his mouth. “They were very close this time, weren’t they?”

He nodded.

“Well, then.” She let go of him, and as he started to protest she undid the fastenings of her shorts and slid them, and her knickers, down her legs. “We need to keep you safe, Doctor. Please.”

He hesitated for a few beats, then his hands flew to the buttons on his jeans and he freed himself. Rose worried her lip as she had no idea what to expect. She had seen the Doctor’s naked backside on a few occasions, but never his cock, and certainly not when he was hard.

He looked entirely human. 

Before she knew it, he had pressed her up against the wall again, and she pushed herself onto her tiptoes as he reached for the back of her knee to pull her up to him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

“I’ll be all right,” Rose assured him, wrapping her arm around his neck. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh Rose.” 

He lined himself up with her and she guided him into her. It was painful because she wasn’t wet enough for him yet. The kiss had been arousing, but the stones of the wall digging into her back and the force of his kiss had put a damper on it. She moaned and squeezed her eyes shut.

Never in her dreams had she imagined that they would be together like this. She had imagined making love to him in various ways, but it had always been because they had finally admitted their feelings for each other, and not because they were forced to. She had offered to help him out, but when she’d said the words she had been unable to grasp the implications of it. The Doctor, however, had; he’d withdrawn from her a little, unable to reason with her because…

_Why, exactly?_

He thrust into her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh where he held her. Then he held himself still, and for a moment Rose wondered if that was it, if he’d already come. She opened her eyes and relaxed a little, and then she felt it. His cock grew inside her, as if it was adjusting to her body to make them a perfect match. Rose had never felt so full in her life. She groaned. “What... ?”

“Are you all right, Rose?” the Doctor asked.

She managed to open her eyes. “Yeah.”

“You’re… we’re a… oh, Rose.” He started to thrust in earnest then. Rose adjusted her grip around him, with her arms and the leg he had pulled up. At one point, he lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her other leg around him as well and she held on for dear life. 

His cock reached all the right places inside her, brushing against the sensitive spots, but the urgency of his movements prevented her from enjoying their union. But this wasn’t about her, or about giving each other pleasure. This was for protection. Rose squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip to keep herself from crying out. Her tears, however, forced their way out from between her lashes.

_Let it be over soon_ , she prayed and dug her fingers into his skin.


	6. Ten

Ten

He must have dozed off. The weight of Rose’s head on his thigh is gone. His eyes snap open immediately and he scans the small room for her. For some reason he still expects to see the familiar surroundings of the warehouse and he scolds himself for being so slow. Those days are long gone.

"Rose?" Panic rises inside him. Throughout all of this he's managed to keep her safe. It just can't be that something had happened to her now that they are safe.

"I'm here, Doctor," she says, climbing back onto the bed. She winces slightly. "It's lovely out. Temperatures have dropped. I feel as if I haven’t taken a deep breath in a long time."

"You haven't," he points out. The heat is oppressive, the air dusty, and she's suffering from bruised ribs. He accepts the glass of water she passes him and downs it in one gulp. This isn't right. He's supposed to be taking care of her.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"How did you find me that day, you know, when I won the competition?" she asks. They don't call it 'the day you first fucked me'. They don't even call it fucking. Didn't. Past tense.

He wonders briefly where that's coming from, but he doesn't press her and opts for being honest instead. "People were talking about you. You'd left quite an impression, you know."

"But I didn't do anything."

"Exactly. You came and listened and watched but you never spoke a word to anyone. They were puzzled by you. It was obvious that you weren't deaf, but it never occurred to them that you didn't speak the language," he says.

"Oh." The memory of their fight surfaces. How can it not? It was awful. It still is awful, really, because they haven't talked about it yet. Maybe that is the key to making her change her mind? He can only hope, but he wants _her_ to set the pace. After all this time he still feels helpless and unable to understand her. But he wants to understand her so badly.

"They called us the mechanic and the dancer. They were amazed to find that we weren't bonded. You know. Married."

Rose doesn't speak for a long time. "So to them we're an epic love story."

All he can do is nod. Even now, the Martobosians find their story _epic_ , as Rose puts it. Now more than ever, actually, but there’s no word that goes beyond the superlative they've already used, proves one ought to be careful with them.

Encouraged, he takes another step. "The Martobosians wondered about you. Why you didn't speak their language. They wanted to ask you so many questions, Rose. They love you."

Rose gasps in the darkness. She finally understands.  


Sleepy December

The Doctor established the ritual that day. They'd fuck, and he'd take care of her afterwards. After he spilt himself inside her that first time, he carried her to the tub and gave her a bath. Then he treated her bruised back. Rose napped for a while, and when she woke she was alone in the loft.

She made herself something to eat, but the sandwich tasted bland. Her mind was too busy with other things for it to be register the taste of food. First and foremost she wondered how often they’d have to do _it_ to keep the Doctor safe. And why was he tearing himself apart over this? His absence meant that he was. She had offered.

Dropping her sandwich onto the plate she closed her eyes. Rose felt numb and hollow. Not used. Abandoned. Maybe she shouldn’t have. She hadn’t enjoyed it. It wasn’t the Doctor’s fault, really. He’d been terrified and they needed to do something about the Family fast. 

She popped the sandwich into the fridge for later and started to make shortbread. When the Doctor finally returned he was covered in grime and grease; his face was so dirty one might think he’d been down the mines.

“What happened?” Rose asked, her voice carrying concern as well as amusement. Basically, she was just glad to have him back. She had supposed that what with the threat from the Family he’d lay low, but he’d run off instead.

“Rose! Are you… all right?”

“Yeah. A bit sore,” she said, and when she saw his distress she quickly added, “It’s not too bad.”

“I want to give you something in return for your services.”

Rose blinked. She wasn’t sure she could trust her ears. She stopped kneading the dough. It was soft and cool beneath her fingers. He made her offer sound cheap, implying that she expected something in return for her _services_. He made her offer sound like that of a whore.

The Doctor nodded.

Oh. “I don’t want anything, thank you very much,” she replied, slamming doors shut on him in her mind. She went back to her kneading, putting all her anger and forlornness into her movements. It was obvious he had no idea how she felt about him. She had cried because she’d lost something precious that morning, not because he had hurt her. Not then.

“Rose, please.”

“You could say thank you.”

“It’s not enough,” he protested, sounding appalled and desperate. Then he noticed what she was doing. “What is this?”

“Shortbread. Or the closest edible thing to it I can make. No milk or butter here, remember?” she explained, never looking up from her work. If she kept maltreating the dough it’d be unusable. Why didn’t he leave?

“Why?”

“I like it, all right?” she snapped. She blew a loose strand of her hair out of her face. It kept falling back across her nose. The Doctor brushed it away before stilling her hands with his. “Rose, please let me do this for you.”

“I’m fine!” she insisted. The dough was spoilt now.

The Doctor withdrew. Frustrated, but determined not to waste the precious ingredients, she began cutting away the soiled bits of dough as she listened to the shower being turned on.

-:-

At the beginning they usually fucked where it was convenient, hard and fast so the Doctor was protected. It took a long time for them to take things to bed. Sometimes he brought her a cloth to clean up as they stayed in bed for a while. They never spoke of the gift again.

One night in December — at least according to the Doctor's sense of time — they made love for the first time. Rose had woken from her slumber and found the Doctor lying facing her, covering her hand with his. "Hey, you," he said.

"Hey yourself," she croaked back. 

"You don't come when we..."

"No." Her answer came so fast it was embarrassing. But it was the truth. 

"I'm sorry. It shouldn't be that way. I mean. Thank you. For doing this for me," he stammered. He never stammered. "I want to be with you. I want you. I want to make love to you. Properly."

She blinked a few times. That was a lot to take in. So far she'd thought that this was all due to his need to stay safe. Apparently, she’d been wrong. It shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did.

He hesitated a bit, but when he said the words they took her breath away. "If you want me that way, that is. I do. Rose."

She sat up and he mimicked her. His left leg hit the floor in the process because he'd been lying on the very edge of her bed. Rose was glad for the nightshirt she'd been wearing. She felt naked enough as it was. "Doctor."

"I've messed things up, haven't I?"

"No!" she cried. "It's just..."

"You feel cheap?"

”No. I... " There wasn't any other way to put it.

He blinked. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel cheap.”

“You daft man,” Rose whispered, and leaned forwards to kiss him. This time it wasn’t about protection. It was about reassurance and truth. Kissing him felt completely different all of a sudden. Their movements were tender and leisurely. Rose tried to put as much feeling into the kiss as possible to make him feel what she’d meant to say.

“Yup,” he grinned as he pushed her away so she could breathe.

“Yes. I do. Want you to make love to me.” The words came out in one mad rush. Although not afraid of his reaction, she was still unsure of his reply.

He stood to take off his pants. For the first time since they’d started having sex she had a good look at him. She knew how his body felt against hers, but she’d never explored it before. He had the lean, muscled body of a runner. They went running every morning just before dawn, when the streets were empty and the temperatures tolerable.

“Can we make this slow? I want to get to know you,” she asked almost shyly.

“I want to make this about you.”

And he did; she never had a chance to get to know his body because he took his time mapping the spots that gave her pleasure. One by one, he found most of her special spots and in the process he licked and kissed his way across her body. He didn’t allow her to distract him, so she didn't get a chance to do the same to him. At least not that time. 

He ran his calloused hands over her back, sucked her toes, kissed her heels, ankles and the backs of her knees and only stopped when he reached her bum and told her to roll onto her back. He continued his journey on her stomach and up her body to her breasts. He kissed and bit her nipples, only to lave them gently with his tongue to soothe the tender skin. His hands felt divine as they cupped and kneaded her breasts. Rose tried not think about all the imperfections he was bound to discover. 

She cried out in shock when he suddenly kissed her wet folds. He nibbled and stroked them with his lips and the flat of his tongue before he closed his mouth around her and sucked on her clit. She cried out in pleasure when he did, and when he pushed first one finger, then another and another into her. His other hand was flat on her stomach to keep her still as she started to move her hips in time with the rhythm he’d established with his fingers and mouth.

Rose came so hard she lost her voice as she soared ever higher into the blazing white. The Doctor murmured something to her, unintelligible words of encouragement and praise and awe. Then she fell, and everything fell away from her.  


Eleven

“I think I’d like a bath too,” Rose says.

“Rose,” he protests. He hates doing this to her, but they need to talk. Of course, she knows it too.

“In the bath, Doctor, yeah? Please?”

He takes her to the bathhouse. It’s a lovely walk in the moons-shine; orange light seems to drip from the foliage, and more nocturnal animals have come to fill the spicy air with their noises. Rose is still a bit wobbly on her feet, so she leans into him as they walk down the path. At this time of night, even the Martobosians are asleep, so they won’t disturb anyone or bother them with their state of dishabille; she in the sarong and the Doctor in his pants.

The Doctor fills the tub with hot water from the reservoir on the roof. It is just the right temperature, having cooled down from being heated to near-boiling by the daytime sun. With a sigh, Rose sinks into the water, submerges herself briefly to wet her hair, and comes up spluttering and brushing her wet tresses back. She winces a little as the movement reminds her of her sore ribs and broken skin.

“I’m afraid that if I learn the language I’ll give myself up,” she says suddenly. “And I didn’t want your gift because I thought… well, it’s my job to keep you safe. And I get all this, travelling, in return. A life I’d never even imagined.” Her words are rushed; they are well-rehearsed.

“Is that so,” he says mildly. He doesn’t quite believe her. He watches her as she sits in the tub, bathed in water and in moons-light. She’s so beautiful. He wants to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. Maybe they should bond.

She ducks her head and her palms hover just above the surface, creating enough static electricity to raise the water and make it cling to her hand. “I felt abandoned those first few times you took me.”

“What?”

“You never stayed after those first few times.” It’s a perfectly neutral statement, but she is reluctant to tell him. He knows the tone. She’s over it. She shouldn’t be, because she’s right. He took her, and her should have stayed with her and told her how much her sacrifice meant to him. She saved his life, again and again, and he never thanked her properly.

“I’m sorry, Rose.”

She looks up, the gesture jerky. Her hand flying to his wrist where she grabs him tightly. “Don’t say that!”

He stares at her.

“All you can ever say is you’re sorry. I know you are.” She lets go of him.

He’s helpless. “What do you want me to say?”

“What’s going on in there, you daft man,” she says calmly, tapping the centre of his forehead. Then she drops her hand and flattens it against his bare chest. “And there.”

_I’m not sure I can do that._ “I’ll try.”  


Imagine January

After she’d won the competition, Rose was a regular among the Acrobats. Her prize was her own act, which she performed twice a day — once before and once after her midday sleep. Days on Martobos lasted forty-eight hours. She’d sometimes wished there were that many hours in a day, but now she found that she didn’t change her routine much. One Martobosian day consisted of a light Earth day and night and a dark Earth day and night. Consequently, she performed in the light morning and in the dark early evening, when temperatures were mild and most people were milling in the streets.

Although the Acrobats tried to teach her the language she declined because learning their language felt like giving up. She couldn’t do that. It was like giving up her trust in the TARDIS.

Thankfully, the Doctor had found a way to keep her phone powered so she could call her mum when she felt like it. 

However, Rose did make friends among the Acrobats. Somehow, they managed to communicate without words, and Rose was content with that. One day she met a travelling acrobat who spoke English. His name was Crispin Hollywell, and he gifted her with milk and butter for her shortbread as well as some cheese. She put some of the milk in the fridge to keep for when the Doctor returned from his overnight engineering job at the spaceyard. He never said it in so many words but he missed a proper cuppa; he had some tea bags left in the back pocket of his jeans, but the bottle of milk was in his jacket — and most likely spoilt into a solid block by now.

It was so good to talk to someone else apart from the Doctor again. Crispin was a bit awkward at first, but he seemed eager to please. He had a strange habit of cocking his head and giving her a strange glance, his nostrils flaring, but Rose thought nothing of it at first. He talked her into trying tight rope walking, promising to secure her in case she slipped.

Only he didn’t. He let go of the rope. Tarim broke his wrist as he broke her fall. The other Acrobats would have beaten Crispin to a pulp if Rose hadn’t cried out for them to stop. She’d only twisted her ankle and suffered some cuts in the fall. She couldn’t believe that he’d let go of the rope like Tarim and the others tried, in sign language, to make her understand that he had let go of the rope. But she didn’t want to believe it. Rose simply couldn’t imagine why he’d do something like that.

“I’m so sorry, Rose,” Crispin said once they were back at the warehouse. “An insect flew into my eye.” He cocked his head. 

“What is it, Crispin?” she asked, adjusting the slipping compress on her ankle.

His nostrils flared. “Where is your companion?”

Rose laughed. That was a first. No one ever regarded the Doctor as her companion. “He’s gone out to the spaceyard to fix our landlady’s cruiser.”

“Oh. I’d hoped to meet him. I must be gone tomorrow.” He looked more than a little distressed. Rose frowned. The way he was fidgeting, it looked almost as if he were panicked.

“Are you all right, Crispin? Where must you go tomorrow?”

He stared at her. “I have to go.” He stood and left without looking back.

“Crispin!?” Rose cried, startled.


	7. Twelve

Twelve

Rose’s temperature was completely normal by dawn, and the bath had helped her sore muscles relax. She lies curled up beside him, her hair a tangled mess of dark blonde curls. She hasn’t dyed her hair since they arrived here so her natural colour has returned. He remembered the times in hiding, when he cut her hair. Later, she went to a hair dresser with the money she earned with the Acrobats Company. He’s still amazed that the sun hasn’t bleached it more than it has and he can’t stop running his fingers through it. It feels different now that it’s washed.

He wants to keep his promise but he’s not sure he can. It feels a lot like the Rule, and look how hard she finds it to stick to it. No, that’s not fair. She tries so hard, and when she breaks it she does it for good reason. Trying hard is the least he can do in return. She saved his life, more than once, with total disregard for her own well-being or even comfort.

He pulls her closer. No wonder she felt used and cheap when he offered her something in return. He’s never learned to accept people’s words of gratitude. But how can a simple _thank you_ ever be enough?

“It’s so hard not to play the what-if game,” Rose whispers into the gloom. “There are so many variables in this, so many times when I could have made a different decision.”

He kisses her forehead.

“How do you survive?” she asked, tilting her head back so she can look at him.

“I move on,” he says.

“You never look back? Can’t you go back and fix things?”

He chuckles lugubriously. “I could. But then I’d take a step back, look at my work and see something else that isn’t quite right. And in fixing that I’d cause a turn for the worse for someone else. You can’t get it perfect. And if you try, it’ll eat you up,” he explains. He rolls to his side so he can look at her. He cannot stop himself from caressing her face as he speaks.

“Oh.”

“You saved all those children’s lives, Rose.”

“But I killed Tarim and Crispin, and Paril’s son,” Rose protests.

“The Family killed Crispin, and it was Tarim’s choice to help you.”

She doesn’t reply at once; it’s clear that it wasn’t entirely up to Tarim. “Which leaves Paril’s son,” she says softly. There’s no playing down his death.

He doesn’t know what to say. His death affects Rose deeply. You can’t save everyone seems a bit banal in the light of it. “You have to forgive yourself. Paril has. And so have I,” he says.

Panic is rising in him. He knows now where this is leading.

“Is there such a thing as a pill that will wipe my memory?” Rose asks.

He finds it difficult to breathe, but he cannot lie to her. “Yes.”

“It’d change me forever, right? It wouldn’t only make my pain go away,” she states.

“You’d have to go back to your old life,” he says. “You’d lose me.”

“And you me.”

He nods, his lips thinning into a tight line.

“Who’d keep you safe then? Would you find someone new?”

“I don’t think I’d want anyone else.”

“But I’m not the first one to travel with you.”

He shakes his head. “No, Rose, you’re not. But I’ve never loved any of them as much as I love you.”

Rose worries her lip with her teeth and smiles shyly.

“Please don’t leave me, Rose.”

February Bliss

Rose saw Crispin again at the evening performance. It was a special performance for the children, and with his help Rose had worked out a special choreography with the other Acrobats. She had skipped a night’s sleep in order to make it perfect, and by the time the performance started, she was running high on adrenaline and the Martobosian version of coffee.

She wished the Doctor were there to celebrate with her, but he wouldn't return until later that night when everything was over. Paril and her children were going to watch the show, however, for which Rose was grateful; it gave her an opportunity to repay her generosity. Paril had told her several times that it wasn't necessary, that the Doctor's work was sufficient. She didn't understand why Rose would want to do something as well when she had a man do it for her. But she had agreed to come because she hadn't been to see the Acrobats in a long while.

After the interval, during which Rose and the Acrobats had celebrated the huge success of their show, Crispin began to act weirdly. He made mistakes that nearly meant serious injury for Tarim and three others, and he failed to secure Rose as she walked the tight rope. She was very lucky that someone broke her fall again, although this time she suffered bruised ribs and several deep cuts on her arm. She was winded for a while so they had to change the order of the act to give her time to recover.

In the green room Tarim kept pushing her back onto the camp bed, speaking to her in a tone that forbade protest. He used her name a great deal, but it was only when he used her real name that Rose stopped struggling. Tears began to fall. "It's not fair," she moaned. Just because she was a bit sore didn't mean she couldn't perform any more. Ever since she had started practising with the Acrobats' Company she'd been constantly sore, and the Doctor usually helped her by giving her massages.

"Imanati," Tarim sighed in exasperation and bent to kiss her forehead and cup her cheek. "Besin, dosy? Besin."

Of course. She would have been disappointed if the Doctor hadn't impressed it on Tarim to take good care of her, and yet she felt patronised by his protectiveness, even if it came by proxy.

"Dosy," she said sulkily. Tarim was very serious about keeping promises and there was no way he'd ignore the Doctor. "It's just I’ve been looking forward to this so much." And then it hit her. When the Doctor saw she was hurt, wouldn't he think that she'd overestimated herself and scold her for being so careless? She could have died in that fall. Her tears began to fall harder.

Crispin was nowhere to be seen. It was as if he was completely ignoring her accident.

“Where’s Crispin?" she asked.

Tarim scowled. Not a good question then.

And that was when all hell broke lose. Crispin took several of the children hostage with a gun unlike any Rose had ever seen, Paril's among them. He demanded she come out onto the stage, so Rose did.

“It’s your fault, you know,” he said, his weapon trembling a little in his hand. It looked as if a small armadillo had draped itself over a gun.

“What?” Rose’s voice broke on the small word.

“If you’d died that day you first fell we would have got hold of the Doctor earlier,” he said.

“I don’t understand…”

“Are you really so dim, Rose?” he sneered, cocking his head. “But then again, your sense of smell is pretty bad.”

Rose’s heart sank. She was so surprised by his revelation that she had a hard time thinking straight. “You won’t get what you want now either. The Doctor is still out in the spaceyard to repair a ship,” she said. Crispin had wanted to kill her so the Doctor couldn’t seek protection from their love-making. 

The Family.

She hadn’t expected them to look human.

“Where’s the rest of your Family?” she asked, buying time by playing dumb for a little longer. Someone needed to come up with a plan, and soon. The Martobosians were strong; it would be easy for them to overpower willowy Crispin.

“We’re here,” they said in unison, and a male and female Martobosian stepped forward, as well as a little girl.

Rose planted her feet more firmly on the ground. The pain from her injuries was gone as adrenaline pumped through her body. “As I said, the Doctor isn’t here.” Hadn’t Crispin said something about not being round for much longer? Was that because his life was running out?

“We’ll make him come back. We’ve got you,” the female — Mother — pointed out.

“Yeah. You don’t need the children,” Rose said with a nod at the trembling, cowering children.

“You’re right,” the girl chirped. “Still, it can’t hurt to have them around as well.”

“You realise I have no way to contact him,” Rose said.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, Rose,” Crispin said. “The noble Paril will do that for us.”

Epilogue

“You didn’t wander off and bring all this upon the Martobosians and yourself,” he continues.

“Neither did you,” Rose says.

He opens his mouth to protest but Rose shifts quickly to shut him up with a kiss. He’s grateful. His thoughts would only have taken him to a very dark place that wouldn’t bring Paril’s son, or any of the others, back.

“What happened… and when did it happen? I can’t remember,” Rose asks. “How long has it been?”

“It’s been one day,” he says reluctantly. He doesn’t want to alarm her; it’s been a rough day, and he feels every minute of it in his bones. “One Martobosian day.”

“I was unconscious that long?” She sounds surprised rather than shocked.

“Most of the time, yeah,” he says, stroking her hair and playing with some of her locks. He takes a deep breath. He needs to get this off his chest and give all of them some peace. “I was busy on Paril's ship, and when the Family grew nervous someone pulled a trigger and, well, the Family blew up the Acrobats’ building. Somehow, you’d managed to get the children out before you were hurt.”

Rose closes her eyes. “But I couldn’t help Paril’s son.”

“No. But you saved all the others. And for that, they are grateful. And, Rose,” he says, tears springing up in his tired, dry eyes. “You nearly died yourself.”

“What?”

He hadn’t meant to tell her that. “It was horrible,” he said, the tears constricting his voice. “When they finally allowed me near you, they had healed the worst of your injuries. All I could do was stand by and watch.”

“Oh. Doctor. I —”

For a while they are silent because there is nothing even Rose can say at that moment. She brushes his silently falling tears off his cheeks. He clenches his jaw and takes her hand to press a kiss into her palm.

“I killed them. I killed the Family.”

She looks at him searchingly.

“I had no mercy in me, Rose.”

Rose kisses him. 

“The next time I run into the Family, I’ll use the Chameleon Arch,” he says. It’s better, more right, that he suffer than innocents.

“There won’t be a next time,” Rose says. “I’ll stay with you. Forever.”


End file.
